What's A Birthday Without An Explosion?
by RogueFanKC
Summary: Steve and John decide to make a birthday video for one of their dearest fans. The Cloak of Levitation, Rosie, and Groot decide to join in on the fun. Bucky and Sherlock decide to settle things with chainsaws and attempted vehicular manslaughter. Mycroft decides (to put it aptly) that he is so done with this. Birthday gift to "anotherwellkeptsecret".


" **Sherlock!** Where's my bike, you asshole?!"

"I merely followed the normal protocols of traffic and parking codes, _Winter Soldier_. As my obligation as a law-abiding citizen of London, I simply adhered to my responsibility of civic duty to call the local tow truck for your obvious parking violation."

"…You… _ **WHAT?!**_ "

"Are you ready, Steven?" asked John Watson as he readied the web-cam attachment on his laptop. Steven Rogers propped up the frosted cake with the gorgeous maraschino cherries, frosting and sugar-beaded rosettes with the red, white, and blue sparkler candle standing in the middle.

Both of them were ignoring the commotion and escalating brawl in the kitchen of 221B.

"Ready, John," Steve replied before he turned to the magical cloak that was safely holding Rosie Watson in the crooks of one corner of its cape and a wrapped present in the other.

"All right back there, Mr. Cloak?" Steve asked.

The Cloak of Levitation cooed approvingly, causing the little baby in its grasp to giggle and let out a shriek of laughter as Dr. Strange's companion shushed Rosie while cradling her lovingly within itself as a sling.

Meanwhile, a certain Guardian of the Galaxy was struggling to ascend upwards the sleeve of Steve's T-shirt…

"I am Groot!" cheered the tiny alien as he finally climbed to the top of Steve's broad shoulder.

John chuckled as he helped Steve with the heavy cake platter, "Yes, Groot, you are fine the way you are."

"I am Groot?"

Both John and Steve looked over their shoulders to see Bucky putting Sherlock in a headlock, with the Consulting Detective reaching for the nearest blunt object (which happened to be a stapler) as Bucky continued to strangle him.

"No, Groot. I think Kelley would be better off _not_ seeing them in the video…" John sidetracked.

"She knows Buck and Sherlock will send their regards," agreed Steve as a howl of wrathful pain erupted from Bucky in the background. Sherlock's stapler found its mark into the middle of Bucky's nose.

"Dipshit!" Bucky snarled nasally (with blood dripping out of his nostrils) as he tried to tackle Sherlock.

"Sod off, you syphilis-ravaged pillock!" as Sherlock managed to narrowly avoid the soldier's blitz by weaving around the couch.

John, Steve, Groot, Rosie, and the Cloak of Levitation then turned to the camera as they began.

"To Ms. Kelley Fasmire, our dear friend and ardent supporter…" Steve began.

"From all of us in 221B and in the Marvel Cinematic Universe who could make this special occasion…" John continued before all four of them and Rosie flourished their cake and smiles.

" _ **Happy Birthday, Kelley!**_ " John and Steve exclaimed as they positioned the beautiful cake in full view of the camera.

" _ **I am Groot!**_ " cheered Groot from Steve's shoulder, lifting up his pink Queen of Sweden rose.

Rosie giggled in front of the camera while the Cloak of Levitation used one corner of its fabric to simulate a waving hand.

"You're mine now, you Consulting Crapsack!" Bucky snarled as he was now straddling and crushing Sherlock on the floor, sitting actually on top of the detective as he repeatedly wailed on Sherlock over and over.

"Like a dog with two dicks, Hydra Bicycle!" Sherlock snapped, one eye starting to swell as he used his legs as leverage to wrap Bucky in a triangle-choke jiu-jitsu move from behind.

"We wished to commemorate this day as a thank you for all the ardent support you have shown all of us throughout the years," John spoke over the noise of Bucky crashing against the bookshelves.

Steve then declared, "Only a few of us could make it, unfortunately. The whole thing with intergalactic invaders and crises across the globe kind of makes it a little tough to gather everyone together. But at least we got Doctor Strange's Cloak and Groot and Rosie to help honor today and be in the audiovisual as our present to you."

"Although the other Avengers and Guardians of the Galaxy send their love and wish you a very wonderful birthday for you and your family, Kelley," John added.

Rosie giggled as she turned her bright eyes to the camera while Groot waved enthusiastically from Steve's shoulder.

"Not only did we want to give you our compliments, but we created this movie to say a few things that all four of us have been meaning to tell you for quite some time as a toast," Steve disclosed.

"And for all the people you have inspired and touched with your blog and your art," John articulated before a deep and familiarly demonic staccato reverberated throughout the flat. Steve frowned before he held up a finger at the camera.

"Kelley, excuse me for a minute…" Steve said apologetically before he looked over and gave a stern look at both Sherlock and Bucky in the background.

" _ **Buck! Sherlock!**_ " Steve barked.

Bucky blinked before shirking backwards a bit in shame while Sherlock looked on in triumph.

"Buck, if you're going to use a chainsaw, _take it outside_ ," Steve ordered.

Sherlock's smug look melted in shock as the implication hit him.

" _Shit…_ " Sherlock cursed uncharacteristically, ungracefully, before he bolted out of the door as fast as he could, weaponless, before the Winter Soldier could seize him. Undaunted, Bucky pursued Sherlock from close behind.

"You're gonna get it now, you tight-assed spaz!" laughed Bucky like a demented villain from a horror movie as he waved around with the revving chainsaw in both of his hands. Now satisfied that the violent chase was outside the apartment, Steve and John continued their on-line tribute as if nothing had happened.

"Your art of Sherlock and John makes everyone's day a little brighter. You bring happiness and lessen the gloom and sadness whenever you show your gifts to complete strangers, just to cheer people up during difficult times. As a fellow artist myself, I greatly admire that sort of sunny compassion," Steve described.

"Your art blog has touched the lives of many people who need a bit of laughter and joy over our escapades, and it is a honor of the highest level to be able to witness you draw Sherlock and I. Bloody hell, you have more subscribers to your blog than me! If that does not show an upbeat purpose, I don't know what will," John praised.

"You are a loyal friend and a loving woman who stands by her family and brings brightness to everyone at her home and her work. You find happiness in not only bringing positivity to everyone in person and on-line, but you adopt everyone into your graces, like a sister," Steve said with affection.

John then verbalized warmly, "You are also humble and wise, never hesitating to offer a tender ear when someone needs to rant or talk, without judgment or condition. You are open and welcome all people, and you always do your very best to play a peacekeeper and welcome all opinions and different views. You unite everyone through your gorgeous masterpieces and good-natured cordiality."

"I'll say! You got Buck and Sherlock of all people behaving! That _alone_ is a sign of a miracle-worker!" Steve exclaimed with his eyes twinkling, and John chortled at the memory.

"It _**was**_ rather funny to see Kelley grab our two prats by the ears and force them both clean up the mess they left in her restaurant during their last fight," John laughed.

"You and the other millions of people who saw the YouTube video," cackled Steve uncharacteristically.

Groot then waved his arm holding his rose before chirping, "I am Groot. _I am Groot._ **I. Am. Groot!** I am Groot!"

John chuckled as he translated, "Groot says he admires someone who stands for others, for the disfranchised, for the outcasts, for the misfits and screw-ups like he and Rocket. He says he loves your encouraging discussions about asexuality and how you help others not feel alone, like a part of a family, like he and the other Guardians feel for each other."

The Cloak of Levitation (much to Rosie's delight) started waving one corner of its fabric body back and forth, getting John and Steven's attention before producing a card from the silk folds. With a flourish, the Cloak presented it to Steven, who took it curiously and read the writing inscribed on the note.

Steve recited slowly, "'Kelley, you are an inspiration and a magic of your own. Never forget that creativity is no difference from intelligence, that bringing color to a page is bringing life to a soul, and that laughter and merriment can pierce even the most horrific darkness.'"

Steve then blinked as he read the final line before he numbly dictated from the card.

"'P.S. – And to answer your question, yes, I am in a threesome with Sherlock's Belstaff and John's Christmas jumper. We do it twice on Sundays."

Steve looked up in dazed astonishment before he slowly turned his gaze to the Cloak of Levitation. To its pride, the Cloak preened and posed shamelessly, invoking Rosie in its makeshift arms to giggle as the Cloak tickled her.

Steve managed to find his voice as he then asked, "…how is that even biologically possible?"

John was rather blasé as he murmured, "It's not the strangest thing to happen to my jumpers. You should have been here for some of the rather unorthodox experiments Sherlock has performed to my clothing."

Steve blinked before he shook his head and muttered, "Never mind. I won't ask."

John then leaned over closer to the camera before he smiled and said, "To Kelley, if we wish to conclude this homage, it is this: some people need a conductor of light…"

"Some people need not a perfect soldier, but a good man…" Steve continued.

"But everyone needs a reassuring and devoted friend like you. Happy Birthday!" Steve and John concluded in unison.

"I am Groot!" Groot cried happily.

The Cloak of Levitation brought Rosie in view who looked at the camera with her big, beautiful eyes as the Cloak waved on.

 _ **KABOOM!**_

The detonation brought both of the soldiers out of the reverie as they hurriedly set down the cake and rushed to the window (with Groot, Rosie, and the Cloak tagging along). Within a few seconds, both John and Steve's faces melted from alarmed tension to jaded forbearance.

"Dare I ask where Sherlock got the rocket launcher?" Steve sighed, wincing.

"I'm actually more worried about the car Bucky is using to run down Sherlock…" John murmured, his mouth set in a thin line.

"Why? You recognize the car he's driving?"

"Yes, because it's stolen…"

 _Crash!_

The screeching of the brakes and the sound of metal colliding with metal wasn't encouraging as the bedlam grew louder. John grimaced. That was a rather fetching Fiesta too…

"Well, it _was_ stolen…" John corrected.

"At least Buck missed Sherlock," offered Steve with a sheepish expression.

"And hit Lestrade's car. Oh look, here come the rest of Scotland Yard. Jolly good show, too."

"Let me guess: the car Bucky stole belongs to Greg?"

"Actually, no. It belongs to the _Chief Superintendent_."

"Ah, so that's why he's here," Steve realized out loud as he and John watched the Chief Superintendent, frothing and purple-faced with rage, hopping up and down on the pavement and having an absolute screaming fit. Interesting that they could hear the Chief's screaming over the wailing sirens.

Lestrade, in the background and down below, was wearily covering his face with his hands as he surveyed the damage.

"At least Buck and Sherlock aren't hurt," Steve pointed out.

"For the moment. Although I do think **someone** will get hurt given how the Chief is screaming in Bucky's face right now," John emphasized as they both continued to watch the proverbial trainwreck below.

They both watched on for several more seconds before Steve groaned, "Please tell me Sherlock isn't coming to Buck's defense by deducting embarrassing stuff about the Chief Super."

"I would like to, but I can't. Oh bloody hell, the Chief's now trying to take it out on Sherlock."

" _ **YOU GODDAMNED FREAK!**_ " the Chief was heard shrieking throughout the entire block and through the windows of 221B.

There was a sudden flush of movement…

Steve then grimaced as he moaned, "Buck, noooooo…"

"That was a rather good uppercut. Isn't this the third time the Chief got his jaw broken?" John asked.

"Second, actually. The last time, his jaw wasn't broken. It was just dislocated after Logan got through with him. Although to be fair, if someone called my daughter a rabid animal, I would have done a lot worse."

"At least I'll take solace that Buck attacked the Chief in Sherlock's honor. Oh good, now the other Scotland Yard officers are trying to tackle Buck and Sherlock."

"They _are_ getting better. They formed the dog-pile much quicker than last time," noted Steve, nodding his head a bit.

"And it's _still_ not enough…" John wryly noted as various officers were sent flying in various directions. One unlucky officer collided face-first against the window Steve and John were viewing through before sliding painfully off and down to the pavement below. Rosie giggled and clapped at the farce. Steve hastily set down Groot from his shoulder and onto Sherlock's desk.

"Groot, call Mycroft and have him help dispel the situation," Steve commanded gently.

John then turned to the camera (which was still filming) and called out, "Kelley, maybe you should be rather glad you don't interact with us much. You really don't want this much insanity in your life."

With that, both of the men left to calm down the fracas and brawl below.

Groot blinked as Steven and John hurriedly rushed out of the flat.

Rosie gurgled and whined for her father, but soothingly, the Cloak of Levitation made cooing noises from the folds of cloth as it bounced and rocked the infant girl within its comforting fabric, like a true babysitter.

After several seconds, the alien sapling then pranced over to Sherlock's cell-phone on the desk before entering the key-code and pressing a button to activate the speed-dial.

Mycroft picked up immediately, his voice showing crisp annoyance.

"What is it, dear brother?"

"I am Groot," Groot replied in the phone.

Mycroft was actually silent for a few seconds before he closed his eyes and inhaled and then exhaled deeply, wearily.

"What has Sherlock and James Barnes done _this_ time?" Mycroft asked.

"I am Groot. _I am Groot._ "

For the oddest reason, Mycroft felt the beginnings of a migraine popping up…

"And **how** pray tell did my darling brother manage to get his hands on a _**missile launcher**_?" Mycroft asked, frowning as he opened his desk drawer for his bottle of Pepto Bismol.

"…I am Groot?"

"I am neither deaf, dumb, nor blind. That excuse will **not** work on me. You have one more chance, Mister Groot."

"…I am **Groot**. I **am** Groot. _I…am Groot._ "

Mycroft's mouth thinned before looking at the bottle of antacid and immediately dropping the medicine back into his desk drawer before slamming it shut and heading to the open bar nearby.

This required scotch.

"Yes, I recall Rocket Raccoon. I _also_ recall telling him to stop selling extra-terrestrial weaponry on the black market ever since the 'Deadpool Panty-Raid' fiasco in Buckingham Palace. And I **also** recall the resulting cease-and-desist order I personally served to Rocket with that stipulation _underlined, in bold, and in triplicate_."

"I am Groot."

"Tell Rocket that if he continues to fail to adhere to my generous and reasonable entreaty, I will see to it that he will be neutered like the vermin he is," Mycroft said calmly as he poured a generous amount of liquor in a tumbler glass.

" _ **I AM GROOT!**_ " gasped said alien in outrage.

"Noted and ignored. Have a nice day, Mister Groot."

Mycroft promptly ended the call and let out a huff of frustration before tipping back the contents of his glass in one admirable gulp. After some afterthought, Mycroft pressed the button to his intercom on his desk.

"Anthea, have a dozen perfumed roses gift-wrapped and delivered to Ms. Fasmire's address, please," Mycroft requested.

On the other end, Anthea blinked. That was rather unexpected.

"Sir?" Anthea asked.

"It **is** her birthday," Mycroft admitted.


End file.
